Knowledge of Madness
by PrincessOfTheRose93
Summary: Marco smiles, but he can't notice this. "Can you see it Feli? Can you see your beautiful world?" Presence of 2p!Italy


**Title**: Knoledge of Madness (Comprensione della Follia)

**Charachters**: Feliciano Vargas (North Italy); Marco Vargas (2p!North Italy)

**Warning**: Violence, a bit What if, a bit Gore.

* * *

"Your world is so beautiful! There's so much life, so much energy! We don't have it, you know? The energy I mean. After all those nuclear wars and epidemics, our world seems like a big desert. It's seems like we go back to the Middle Ages." Marco smiles, sinisterly serene, while looking at the breathtaking view of the Alps and green plains.

"I wish you could _see_ my world." he murmurs, like if he was sorry, turning to the tremble figure of Feliciano, curled up in a corner of the dark, elegant room. He's rocking back and forth, whispering some grumble and keeping his head between his poorly wrapped hand, sobbing a little.

"Ehi, don't cry! You should see yourself: so dirt and battered. You should react, _si_?" Marco says sweetly; he walks up the Italian, and he grabs forcefully his hair, lifting his head. "Don't be sad! Soon, you'll _see_ all your friends. Aren't you happy, North Italy?"

Feliciano keeps sobbing.

"W-Why? he says. Why are you doing this to us? W-We didn't do anything to you."

"That's exactly the reason." Marco's voice has the same tune of the one of a parent that punishes unwillingly the insolent child. "You see, if you had reacted at the first arguments, we wouldn't think that you were some useless imbeciles, we would stopped and lived you alone. But, you didn't react, you ignored us, and..." Marco's smile is sinisterly strange, but the other nation can't notice this. "We hate people that ignore us."

The fist tightens with more strength, and Feliciano can't suppress another sob.

"S-Stop! Y-You're hurting me!"

"Really? Oh, I'm so sorry, but I hate people who cry endlessly like you." Marco's voice is still sweet while he knocks the Italian's head against the wall. "I hate especially those who cry and had the same face has mine."

Feliciano weeps. Everything, in his body, hurts: his broken hand, he almost can't feel his legs anymore – although, he had began to think that he doesn't have them anymore – his cracked ribs; but most of all, his head: his head hurts so much.

"S-Stop. Please."

"Sh…" Marco rests a finger on the other's swollen lips. "A true nation doesn't beg the enemy."

Feliciano screams when Marco drags him across the room by the hair. He feels something warm slip on his neck, and he hopes that it isn't blood.

_"Look, Italia!"_Marco raises him on the window, directing Feliciano's head towards the mountains. "_Look_ at your place! _Look_ how beautiful are your Alps! You know, in my world, bombs had almost destroyed them. I don't even remember how they looked like when something was growing on them. And _look_ at here: they're all so green and rife! And _look_ at the birds, how beautiful they are when they fly, and at the butterflies and at the bees, and at the white, red, blue flowers, so many flowers of so many color! And the trees! It passed so much time from the last time I saw a oak! Look, Feli, look at this lovely nature! Isn't it beautiful!?"

Marco's voice is similar to the one of a child that discovers the wonders of the world, and it's enthusiastic and genuine in a disturbing way; but those words aren't less beautiful and intense – and painful, so painful for Feliciano.

"So then, tell me Feli." Marco accosts his month to the other's ear, giving him a shudder. "What do you _see_, mh?"

"V-Ve-"

"Come on, Feli, tell me…"

"I-I see-"

_"Si?"_

"I see black… Only black… So much black…"

"Oh" Marco seems disappointed. "And why do you _see_ only black, Feli?"

"B-Because-" Feliciano swallows hard. He can't keep going, he just can't. He screams when Marco twists his arm, broking it; he falls on the ground, and he can almost see Marco's eyes: smiling, mocking violet eyes, a bit pinkish on the board of the iris, such a strange color that fascinated him the first time they met; he can almost see also the bright light of madness in those eyes. Feliciano sobs, harshly, and keeps trebling.

"It's sad thinking that you were destroying this world. Fortunately, we came before you could do that." Marco laughs, then he kneels before Feliciano, caressing his hair. But the Italian nation moves aside violently, he draws back trembling. "Y-You are crazy!" he screams, trying to protect his good arm. "You are mad! All of you!"

Marco smiles, walking slowly next the other Italian, making sure that he could hear his steps.

"But I'm not crazy, _Italia_. I'm just differently sane." he says, brushing delicately Feliciano's cheekbone. Feliciano screams louder when he feel that touch, cold like the steel of a knife.

"A-Aiuto! F-Fratellone! Fratellone! Ludwig! Where are you!? Kiku! Lovino! Where are you Lovino!?" Feliciano continues to cry, moving until he touches the wall; when his back touches the cold surface, he turns towards it and begins to scratch it with the good hand, broking his nails. He never ceases to scream.

"_Look_ at you. You're the mad one, now." Marco murmurs, delight by that pathetic show. "To bad you last so briefly. Your Japanese friend last more time than you before going mad."

"_Aiuto! Aiuto!_ Lovino! Ludwig! Elisabeta!" Feliciano keeps crying random names, his mind clouded by fear. His voice, after screaming so much, is reduce to a hoarse croak.

"You know, you should thank me."

Feliciano stops all his movements, then he turn toward the other Italian. His tightens his fists, and his lips form a strange grimace, that, theoretically, should be threatening. But it only makes his swollen face more pathetic than ever.

"About what?"

"I spare you the sight of the torture of your friends." Marco feel almost insulted. Feliciano shakes violently; then he brought his hand to his face, trying to cover it, scared and shameful.

"Feli~ be a good boy! You aren't from a rude world, aren't you? So, how do you say it?"

Feliciano trembles lightly. He hears Marco's footsteps getting closer and closer; then, he's surrounded by the cold warmth of the other, and he needs some time to understand that the other Italian is hugging him.

"You know what to say, and how you say it. You do not want Seborga suffer something worse than what he had already experienced, right?"

Feliciano winces, and tears mixed to blood drop along the dirt cheekbones.

"Say it, Feli."

_"G-Grazie-"_

_"Grazie_…?"

"G_-Grazie… P-Padrone-"_

"For what?"

_"Grazie, padrone_… For tear off my eyes and spare me the sight of the torture of my little brother." he whispers, before starting to cry again, hiding his face on the other's neck. Marco smiles, again, letting him cry and rocking him slowly.

_"Di niente Feli_. You know it, it's my pleasure to pleasure my pets, _si_?"

* * *

... Something a wrote before the final exams, a mere exercise. Nothing more.  
It's and old story that I decide to translete in english. This is my first try, so don't be too much rude, ok? I don' know anyone who could correct the errors, so sorry if you'll find some.  
I hope that it isn't that bad, though .-.


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